Telegonus
by Wilusa
Summary: Nick Wolfe hacks into Joe Dawson's computer files, and receives a cruel surprise. Part of my main universe.


  
DISCLAIMER: Highlander, Raven, and their familiar characters are the property of Davis/Panzer Productions. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit being made.  
  
This story is set in the same reality as my earlier stories "Absolutely Not" and "Lone Wolfe," but should make sense to readers who aren't familiar with them.  
  
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_JULY 1, 1999_  
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Nick Wolfe was bored.  
  
Six weeks an Immortal, and...well, it wasn't fair to say nothing had changed. He'd formed a wonderful friendship with Duncan MacLeod, a man who would never be his teacher, but was well on the way to becoming his_ idol_. He had a new girlfriend, Janet Ross. A new "hobby," swordfighting.  
  
And come September he'd be back in the States, in law school...though still working part-time for the very persuasive Bert Myers. He'd told Myers that he'd undergone a conversion of sorts, and would never again shoot to kill. After a beat, Myers had said, "Okay." And then, hopefully, "Shoot to _maim?_"  
  
But for now, he was still minding the store in Paris. Business was, to put it bluntly, nonexistent. So Nick was sitting in an otherwise empty office most of every day, twiddling his thumbs.  
  
And brooding. Over his unwanted Immortality...his shattered faith in Amanda...and the misdeed that had made him vow he would never again, deliberately, take a human life.  
  
He'd told Myers most of the truth about that. Famed transplant surgeon Julian Heller had been the head of a black market in human organs. He had murdered Nick's ex-wife, an idealistic and fiercely determined lawyer, to keep her from sending him to prison. And Nick had retaliated by killing Heller. A convenient fire--which he'd let Myers assume he had set--had burned the body to a crisp. And the authorities, aware Heller was a monster, had seized on that excuse to rule his death accidental. No autopsy had been performed.  
  
Of course, there were a few details Nick hadn't shared with his boss. Heller had been Immortal, and Nick--then a clueless pre-Immortal--had lain in wait and beheaded him. The fire had been started by the whopper of a Quickening that had, fortunately, gone into Amanda.  
  
None of that changed the bottom line. After championing the law all his life, Nick had turned his back on it and killed for revenge. Gotten away with murder.  
  
Even from a practical point of view, he'd screwed up. As his ex had anticipated, killing Heller hadn't ended the black-market organ trade; someone else had taken his place. The atrocities could only have been stopped by exposing them in court.  
  
Nick found it hard, these days, to feel good about himself.   
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******  
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At least the first of the month gave him a reason to put his problems out of his mind and spend a half hour changing his computer passwords. All but the most important one, the key to his most personal, private files. That never changed.  
  
After he'd tinkered with the passwords until he himself was in danger of forgetting them, it was back to thumb-twiddling.  
  
He thought about going out. He sometimes did that...for no other purpose than to lead McNally on a merry chase around Paris, then lose the guy in any of a hundred ways. That was fun, in a short-term sense.   
  
But whenever he gave it much thought, he seethed at the prospect of those damned Watchers shadowing him for the rest of his life. He spent way more time fretting over the Watchers than worrying about hostile Immortals.  
  
He sauntered to the window, and spent five minutes trying to spot a lurking McNally. No luck.  
  
That in itself didn't mean much. But come to think of it, he hadn't seen the sandy-haired young man for several days. Could he have given up and asked to be reassigned, like Canning before him?  
  
Nick grinned as he recalled the "secret" report he'd hacked into. _"It's next to impossible to Watch an Immortal who knows about the Watchers, wants to elude us, and has police skills."_  
  
_Not to mention computer skills... _  
  
Having nothing more constructive to do, he went online and set about penetrating the Watcher files again. If McNally had called it quits, he might as well find out the name of his replacement. With luck, there'd be a picture as well.  
  
Ten minutes later, he was chuckling over the info he'd amassed on one Bryan Slocumb--extending even to details of the poor sap's love life. _Like taking_ _candy from a baby._  
  
He'd never before had time to pry into Watcher records other than his own. Now he did, and he amused himself by checking their reports on Amanda's adventures of the past year. He knew the truth of those incidents, and was curious as to how close the amateur historians had come.  
  
It was about as he'd expected. The Watchers clearly strove for accuracy and objectivity. They got the basic facts right, but were forced to make a great many guesses--often wrong.  
  
Next he sought out the past histories of some Immortals he'd met...and finally, settled into reading Joe Dawson's Chronicle of Duncan MacLeod.  
  
He quickly realized this was the jewel of the Chronicles. After they'd become friends, MacLeod had given Dawson the inside story--not just on current happenings, but on all four centuries of a colorful, action-packed life. Nick lapped it up, enthralled.  
  
_But I wonder how Mac would have felt if he'd known he was living in a fishbowl all that time? And how he'll feel when someone replaces Dawson?_  
  
He puzzled over one uncharacteristically vague report: that in 1997, MacLeod had suffered a nervous breakdown and killed his close friend and former student, Richie Ryan. According to the Chronicle, he had then retreated to a Buddhist monastery in Malaysia, where he gradually straightened himself out without psychiatric help.   
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Doesn't sound like Mac. Can't imagine him cracking up like that, for no apparent reason. And...he told me he killed someone he shouldn't have in '97, in a case of mistaken identity, and almost lost his mind **after** it..._  
  
Nick shrugged. _So even Dawson gets a few things wrong._ _Not my problem.  
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He skimmed through MacLeod's more recent doings, which included a good deal of travel to give Ryan's friends the news of his death. _Still punishing himself_. His eyebrows shot up, in surprise and pleasure, as he read that Dawson believed the new friendship with _him_ was doing the Highlander a world of good.   
  
At last he moved on, probing into the most secret corners of Watcherdom...  
  
And found a mysterious file, locked and guarded with a zeal that smacked of paranoia.  
  
The file was identified as belonging to Joe Dawson...for his eyes only, as long as he lived. Upon his death, he promised in his notes, some unnamed intimate of his would give the access codes to Duncan MacLeod's next Watcher.  
  
It didn't even occur to Nick that the file might contain information damaging to MacLeod. He didn't believe there could be such a thing.  
  
_Dawson's one of the top men in the organization... Details of irregularities? Scandals that could tear the Society apart?_  
  
_After all, Mac is probably the most highly-regarded Immortal. His next Watcher is sure to be another key guy, the kind Dawson would trust with their secrets, whether or not he's someone Mac will like._  
  
_Maybe there's something here I can use to blackmail Dawson. Make him convince the Watchers it was all a mistake--I'm not an Immortal. Get them off my back, once and for all._  
  
Then he went rigid, appalled by his own thoughts. _ **Blackmail?** What's happening to me?_  
  
_Last spring I found out I'm capable of murder. And now I'm casually considering blackmail. What sort of person am I?   
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_Duncan MacLeod would never..._  
  
But he wasn't Duncan MacLeod.  
  
He gave a long shudder. But he couldn't tear himself away from that blasted file.   
  
_I'm gonna crack this baby for the challenge, that's all._  
  
_Of course that's all._  
  
He almost believed it.  
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Two hours later, his motive seemed moot. He'd gotten past all but one password, but he was ready to tear his hair out over this one.   
  
Everything else had been related to Dawson's interest in blues music. Yet for this final, inmost password, Nick had rung changes on the names of every imaginable blues artist, blues joint, and song title--having made side trips to several reference websites to supplement his own knowledge. Nothing worked.  
  
_Well, he's also a bartender..._  
  
But it wasn't the name of any known drink, either. Or brand of whiskey, wine, or anything else.  
  
Nor was it the name of any of Duncan MacLeod's past Watchers. Or any of the Immortal's friends or enemies, living or dead.   
  
Nick muttered a string of curses...then impulsively tried the curses as passwords.  
  
Nope.  
  
As a last sally before signing off, he disgustedly batted out the letters of _his_ _own_ secret password. Hit "Enter" with an ironic flourish.  
  
And found himself gliding into the heart of Joe Dawson's file.  
  
_Wha-aat?  
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Within moments he'd forgotten his amazement at getting in. All his attention was riveted on the mind-numbing secrets that scrolled before him.  
  
A Zoroastrian demon, Ahriman, who tries to seize control of the world at thousand-year intervals. Duncan MacLeod, forced to confront him as the Avatar. Ahriman tricking and tormenting him until a distracted MacLeod was unable to distinguish between reality and illusion, and mistook Richie Ryan for an apparition of the demon. A fatal mistake.  
  
Joe Dawson discovering the truth for himself. Ahriman offering him _legs_--actually letting him experience having them--in a heartless attempt to make him betray his friend.  
  
MacLeod defeating the demon when he realized the solution lay in renouncing violence. Acting as the representative of all humanity, he had banished his own anger and hatred...and with them, Ahriman.  
  
He and Joe had agreed the story should not be shared with the Society of Watchers as a whole. If Joe had revealed it and not been believed, he would--at the very least--have been replaced as MacLeod's Watcher. If he had been believed, there might have been a leak. And if the world were to learn of this horror, human civilization could well collapse under its new weight of fear. Ahriman would be back...and MacLeod knew intuitively that any attempt to "prepare" the next Avatar would be in vain.  
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Nick sagged in his chair, stunned. He had briefly considered the possibility Dawson might be insane. But he knew MacLeod had total confidence in the man.  
  
And he had total confidence in MacLeod.  
  
He realized his teeth were chattering, and willed them to stop.  
  
_All right, it's true. Deal with it._  
  
There was more in the file, a lot more. If only to get his mind off Ahriman, he forged ahead.  
  
Something about an Immortal called Methos. Nick had never heard the name, in any context. But he was evidently supposed to be the oldest Immortal, over five thousand years of age. His existence was widely dismissed as a legend, but Joe Dawson knew him to be real.  
  
In fact, Methos was a close friend not only of Dawson, but of MacLeod and Amanda. Nick wasn't surprised that Mac had kept the old Immortal's secret, but his respect for Amanda went up a notch.  
  
_Huh. This Methos, alias Adam Pierson, infiltrated the Watchers and got assigned to head the search for himself, to make sure he'd never be found._  
  
_Sounds like a man after my own heart._  
  
He had second thoughts a few minutes later. _My God. He was one of the **Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?** _  
  
As he read on, he was forced to give credence to the almost unbelievable story. Bizarre as it was, it did help to clarify MacLeod's encounter with the megalomaniac Kronos. Nick had been aware there were gaps in the official version of that.  
  
He still felt he was missing something. _Dawson makes clear Methos has agreed that all this information on him be passed on to future Watchers of Duncan MacLeod. Why?  
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He might yet find an answer. There was one more topic in the file...and it promised to be a biggie. The title was "Parentage of Immortals."  
  
Holding his breath, he plunged in.  
  
He found a tangled tale of the priest Darius, English and Scottish Gypsies, an Immortal villain named Roland Kantos...and a woman named Margaret MacLeod.   
  
A woman who had borne Methos a son, Duncan.   
  
He closed his eyes and sat very still.  
  
_Incredible. For thousands of years, Immortals have puzzled over where we come from. The ultimate mystery, Amanda told me. And after six weeks as an Immortal myself, I have part of the answer! Immortal fathers, mortal mothers. Duncan MacLeod's parentage is actually **known**._   
  
He returned to the file, drinking in every word.  
  
Learned that those mortal mothers always died soon after giving birth. And that most of the very few fathers who knew the truth gave their children away--as Methos had, to Margaret's brother--for their own protection. Darius had tried to raise his own son, only to have an enemy make him Immortal at the age of two.  
  
_So maybe the person who left me in St. Nicholas' Church in Seattle really did love and want me. Of course, it may not have been my father.  
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Reading on, he found that the MacLeod story descended into the realm of nightmare. Duncan MacLeod had himself fathered at least one child, without knowing it: _Richie Ryan_. Now he had to be protected from learning Immortals could father children, lest he correlate certain dates and realize he had killed his own son.  
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_Damn!_ Nick pushed his chair back with a vengeance. His eyes burned, and he felt physically ill. _MacLeod is the best of us. It's not fair, **not fair! **  
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He got to his feet and paced for ten minutes. Grieving for MacLeod, punctuating his dark thoughts with kicks aimed at the unoffending office furniture.  
  
But as he grew gradually calmer, a hope began to form in the back of his mind.  
  
_Mac has always had a thing for the Pacific Northwest._  
  
_Seattle? 1965? Can't recall..._  
  
He returned to the computer with new enthusiasm. But as he was about to sit down, the phone rang.  
  
He was in no mood to be interrupted. So he picked it up and slammed it down again. Waited a few seconds, then took it off the hook and left it off.   
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******  
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"I'm sorry, Nick."  
  
Nick continued to stare at the comic antics of his screen saver. He only dimly registered the voice. It seemed far, far away.  
  
"Nick? Are you all right?"  
  
That got through to him--that, and the sensation of a hand gripping his shoulder.  
  
He looked up. But he didn't have an answer to the question, so he said merely, "You knew."  
  
"Yeah, I knew." Joe Dawson's voice was as flat and lifeless as Nick's. He squeezed the younger man's shoulder again, then found a chair and awkwardly lowered himself into it.  
  
Nick realized, in a detached way, that it hadn't been easy for Dawson to climb those two steep flights of stairs.  
  
_I'm glad he isn't trying to sell me a bill of goods about there being thousands of Immortals unknown to the Watchers, who could have been anywhere. He's sharp enough to know I've already found out about the girlfriend. The **dead** girlfriend. _  
  
_My mother._  
  
He said, "You had tracking software that let you know I was in your secret file?"  
  
He wondered if his voice sounded as unnatural to Dawson as it did to him.  
  
"Yeah," Dawson said again, miserably. "It alerted me the minute you began _trying_ to get in. I had a bagful of tricks of my own...thought I could force you out of it from my computer, or make yours crash. But nothing worked. Damned sophisticated system you have here."  
  
Nick shrugged. "Belongs to Myers. His work demands it."  
  
"Huh. I should've thought of that. I've known you were in our files before, by the way...I didn't really care. Mac praised you to the skies, so I didn't see you as a headhunter type. And I didn't want to tangle with you and make you more hostile to the Watchers than you already were. You weren't physically harming any of our people, and I wanted to keep it that way."  
  
Nick grunted, then conceded, "Makes good sense."  
  
"But how the hell did you get into the top-secret file? Random password-generator program?"  
  
"No." There was a bitter taste in Nick's mouth. "I was on the point of giving up, and I just made a final gesture. Something totally illogical. Typed in my own secret password."  
  
For a moment Dawson looked blank. Then, slowly, comprehension dawned in his red-rimmed eyes. "My God. Of all the fucking bad luck...the great loves of both our lives were named _Lauren_."  
  
After a long pause, Nick had to ask. "Is your Lauren dead, too?"  
  
"Yeah. And I actually saw her being murdered. Couldn't break a door down--or even break a glass panel, so I could reach the lock--in time to save her."  
  
They sat for five minutes in wretched silence. Then Dawson cleared his throat and continued. "After you got out of that file, I wasted more time trying to decide whether to call Mac and tell him about some of the things you'd learned, call you and chew you out, or just let it go. When it finally dawned on me what you'd do next, I tried to call you. But..." He gave an expressive shrug.  
  
"You couldn't have stopped me," Nick said softly. "Stopped me _today_, maybe, but that's all.   
  
"And I don't regret having dug for the facts. I'd rather know than not know."  
  
"How do you feel about it?"  
  
"I...don't feel anything yet. About any part of it. I'm not even sure who I _am_ right now."  
  
"This doesn't change things, Nick. You're the same person you always were."  
  
_Yeah. But I was already having doubts about him._  
  
"I should go," Dawson said at last. "Are you going to be okay?" His honest, open face was creased with concern.  
  
**_All right, it's true. Deal with it._**   
  
"I can handle it," Nick said. "Don't worry about me."  
  
Dawson struggled to his feet. The chair was tippy and he almost toppled over, but Nick didn't think to help him.  
  
"So I'll be on my way." A pause. Then, "Nick, if there's anything I can do--"  
  
"No."  
  
The Watcher sighed and headed for the door.  
  
As he was about to leave, he looked back and said ruefully, "Guess I'll change that password. It wasn't as secure as I thought."  
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Nick resumed staring at his screen saver.  
  
But five minutes later he came to life, and brought up his own password screen.  
  
His lip curled in a mirthless smile as he deleted the password _Lauren_, and replaced it with _Telegonus_.  
  
A minor character in Greek mythology. The son of Odysseus and Circe.  
  
**_A son who had unwittingly killed his own father._**  
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(THE END)   



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